


rise from your burning fiat

by dangerbears



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:17:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerbears/pseuds/dangerbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of the high school variety. louis and zayn have always been best friends and they always will be, no matter how much time they let pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rise from your burning fiat

Zayn's sitting at the stadium, high up. Everyone else is on the bleachers next to the pitch, but Zayn's in the stadium seats that no one actually uses. High up at the top, near the roof. He's drawing something undefined, some elaborate designs involving some cliches that he hates himself for: flames and bones and screaming mouths. Like, okay. The slightly faded noises of the crowd grows, grows to fever pitch, and he looks up. Louis has the ball, slaloming between defenders, nutmegging some massive guy who probably thinks he's Gattuso. Louis's eyes burn, focused on the only two things he's ever focused on: soccer and Harry. The cross comes off Louis's right foot, like everyone knows it would, high and arcing and so Hollywood that Zayn smiles. Harry chests it down, steps over – Zayn rolls his eyes, because, like, fuck step-overs – and goes for the far post. Not a doubt. Tomlinson to Styles to goal. Always. 

Harry takes a few steps, a quick leap into the air and stops. Turns and opens his smile as his eyes find Louis and Louis is there, always, leaping into his arms, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist, his arms around Harry's neck. Louis buries his face in Harry's hair and Harry's hands come around Louis's thighs, holding him up. Zayn allows himself a small, proud smile, and takes out his phone. _gorgeous assist, lou_ , he sends. 

*

Louis and Zayn haven't been proper friends in years. Four years, Zayn thinks. Three and a half, maybe. It was never a _thing_ , really. They grew up together, the Maliks moving in next door to the Tomlinsons when Zayn and Louis were three, and that was that. They spent every moment together, building forts in the trees behind their houses, kicking a soccer ball across their adjoining lawns, playing some convoluted game of war throughout the entire neighbourhood, sleepovers in the winter, campouts in the summer, snow forts, skateboards, runaway attempts – Louis was there for all of it. 

When they were five, and Zayn was getting ready for his first year of kindergarten with his Hulk lunchbox and his Iron Man backpack and his new pair of sneakers, Louis was getting ready for his own first day of kindergarten, with his uniform trousers and his pressed button up shirts and his ties and his combed hair. They'd meet outside their houses and Louis would walk with Zayn to the bus stop and Zayn would wave goodbye and bite his lip and Louis would give him a sort of sad smile and keep walking on to his private, Catholic fortress. Louis would walk on that way for nine years. 

But it was fine, all fine, because for nine years, Louis would be waiting at the bus stop when Zayn stepped off and his tie would be loose and his shirt would be unbuttoned three down his chest and his hair would be sticking up and he'd grin all bright and big as Zayn punched him in the shoulder and they'd race home, gangly limbs and small hands pushing and grabbing at each other, until they fell on their adjoining lawn, breathless and laughing. 

"Missed you," Louis would mutter. 

"Missed you back," Zayn would say. 

In the fall of eighth grade, Zayn was mindlessly watching television and Louis was exiled to his bedroom to work on high school applications. Louis was expected to go to another private, Catholic fortress – another four years of choir and mass and rich assholes who wouldn't acknowledge Zayn, the public school friend. Which was fine, because Zayn wasn't very interested in Louis's douchebag private school friends, either, it just stung a little, because. Just. What if Louis had to choose? And what if Louis didn't choose him? And he was laying on the couch, watching television, and Louis was applying away another four years of his life in a different direction than Zayn and it was hard enough to find time to be with Louis _now_ , with all those fucking extracurriculars private school boys were expected to excel at, and just. What was it going to be like in high school, when life gets so much more complicated? So, like, yeah, Zayn was worried. 

And then suddenly Louis appeared in Zayn's family room and plopped onto the couch next to him and said, "So, I've applied to three prisons."

"Mazel tov," Zayn said. 

Louis breathed out a little laugh and stared at the TV, some stupid cartoons that Zayn was zoned out to. "What is this shit? I'm not watching this. Give me the remote."

Zayn handed it over with a roll of his eyes. Louis flipped through the channels rapidly, so quickly that Zayn was positive he wasn't seeing what they were passing. Louis settled on Maury. 

"I hate you," Zayn said.

Louis smirked. "Yeah. So anyway. Three prisons."

Zayn's gut clenched and he nodded, saying nothing.

"I don't want to go to any of them," Louis said.

Zayn nodded again. He wouldn't either. 

Louis kept talking. "So I think I'm not going to."

Zayn raised his eyebrows at that. "Not going to? Meaning, what, not going to high school? Live in my basement? Have me sneak you meals?"

Louis smiled and said, "I wish. No. I think. I think I'm gonna talk to my parents about going to Lakeview. With you." 

Zayn sat up at that. "What? Wait. What?"

Louis shrugged, looked nervous. "I – yeah. What do you think?"

Zayn smiled so big, then, so big and real and it felt like a weight was lifted off him and, just, _god_ , he was going to go to school every day with his best friend. "I think fuck _yes_ , Lou. What the hell else would I think?"

Louis wrinkled his nose to hide his pleased smile and buried his face in Zayn's shoulder. "Gonna have to keep all the public school thugs away from my pretty face, you know."

Zayn laughed. "You know I'll always protect you, baby."

And then Louis found the courage to talk to his parents about it and Louis's parents talked to Zayn's parents and Zayn's parents talked to Zayn and Zayn talked to Louis and then one day in early September, Louis was walking Zayn to the bus stop and for the first time in nine years, Louis stopped with him, got on the bus with him, and sat next  to him. 

And it was amazing, for two months. It was amazing, everything Zayn knew it would be. A built-in best friend, walking into this huge school next to him. A built-best friend, sitting next to him in the cafeteria, making faces into their unrecognisable food. A built-in best friend. It was amazing. For two months. 

And then Louis joined the soccer team. And Louis started making friends. And Louis became The Boy everyone talked about, because he was gorgeous and brilliant at soccer and hilarious and energetic and exciting and new and wonderful. Zayn agreed with all of it and Louis rolled his eyes at him and sat next to him on the bus the one day a week he didn't have soccer practice after school and things were almost the same, except Zayn was losing Louis. 

Louis said, "You'll always be my best friend."

Louis said, "We'll always pick up exactly where we left off."

Louis said, "I love you. I have to go."

*

And now they're halfway through their senior year and Zayn's time is occupied with AP Art and AP Art History and regular everything else, because he doesn't care, really. He's got another best friend and he's got art friends and he's got music friends and he generally stays in and draws and Liam comes over and watches movies and he goes to the record stores with Aiden and it's fine. He doesn't care about high school and he doesn't care about that school spirit bullshit and he doesn't think he has a single article of clothing that pledges his allegiance to the place he spends the majority of his time and he likes it that way. 

But he always finds himself at the stadium at 5 o'clock in the afternoon every Friday, watching Louis slot crosses to Harry and Harry smashing them into the net. He doesn't wait around for Louis after the match, because Louis is busy with the girls and the excitement and the rah-rah-rah bullshit that goes with successful school sports teams, but he's always there. 

He used to hang out with Louis every moment they were not isolated in their separate schools. Now, he hangs out with Louis for two hours on Friday afternoons, along with the rest of their high school, just hungry for a piece of him. 

Zayn gets a text back at 10 o'clock that evening. _dedicated to you as always zayner!_

Zayn smiles. They do pick up where they left off, no matter what. They're hardwired together, somehow. 

*

Liam drops himself on Zayn's bed around noon on Saturday. "I'm bored."

Zayn looks at him. "Alright." He closes his sketchbook, but Liam grabs it before he can shove it under his pillow. 

"What's this, then?" Liam flips through to the last page, having seen everything else already. "Oh, intense, is this where your mind's at?"

Zayn shrugs. Liam smiles at him softly. "Everything alright?" 

"I heard back from RISD," Zayn says. 

Liam's eyebrows shoot up. "You never said! I – oh, is there a reason you never said?" Liam's arm instinctively wraps around Zayn's shoulder.

Zayn smiles and nudges him gently with his elbow. "No. Nah. I got in."

"What!" Liam jumps off the bed, then, face lit up. "Zayn, oh my _god_ , that's _fantastic_ , how could you have not told me immediately?!"

"I um." Zayn looks up at him nervously. "I haven't even told my parents yet."

Liam gives him a long look, sits back down and leans against the headboard. "Okay. Do you – I mean. Do you wanna talk about why?"

"No, no, it's nothing, like, scary, or whatever. I just. It's like, I just wanna get out of here but I don't want things to change? If that makes sense?" Zayn says and he closes his sketchbook again and shoves it under his pillow, sliding down the headboard and turning onto his side, looking up at Liam. 

Liam bites his lip. "Okay," he says slowly. "But it's kind of inevitable, and like. I'm going to Columbia, so we'll be really close. Can hang out a lot, and all that."

Zayn gives him a small nod, but he knows what those kind of promises mean. "Just a little down about having to start all over, I guess," he says with a self-deprecating smile. 

Liam lets out a soft laugh and slides down next to Zayn, so their bodies are lined up. "You haven't done so bad with these four years. And you're insanely talented and you need to be somewhere that recognises that."

Zayn rolls his eyes, not wanting to deal with that. "Whatever."

Liam gives him the out. "So, anyway, I'm pretty sure Harry Styles' car has been in the driveway for about three days."

"Yeah," Zayn says. "What else is new?"

Liam shrugs. "Have they always been that way?"

"What way?" Zayn asks curiously. 

Liam says, "I dunno. Inseparable?" 

Zayn ignores the way that word makes his chest tighten. "I guess. I don't know. They've been best friends since freshman year, yeah? Since Lou joined the team."

"Yeah, but." Liam stops, as if unsure of what he's about to say next. "It's seemed more intense this year."

Zayn sits up. "What are you saying?"

Liam shakes his head. "No, I don't know, I'm not saying anything. Just wondering, is all."

"You think they're...?" Zayn trails off, questioning.

Liam's eyebrows come together and he looks worried, now. "No, Zayn, I don't know, I was just talking. Don't, like, say anything to anyone. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah," Zayn says. "I won't."

Liam's still looking at him, all wrinkled forehead and anxious eyes. "And it wouldn't matter if they were, either," he says.

Zayn gives him a sharp look. "Obviously."

Liam sits up, now. Zayn holds in a sigh. "I mean, I wouldn't care, you know?" he says, with careful emphasis. 

"What are you saying, Li?" Zayn says slowly.

Liam holds Zayn's gaze for a long time, before sighing. "No, nothing. Never mind. I told Aiden we'd meet him for coffee."

Zayn nods shortly. "Let's go then." He crawls out of his bed and sticks his feet in his Doc Martens.

Liam knocks their elbows together as they walk down Zayn's driveway. "Didn't mean to make things weird."

"No, I know," Zayn says. "Thanks, you know."

Liam gives him a small smile. "Obviously."

Harry's car is still there.

*

Coffee turns into wandering around the shops which turns into mocking each other's taste in music which turns into Aiden dragging them off to his friend Matt's gig which turns into Zayn walking home at one in the morning, tired and with ringing ears. 

He turns off the sidewalk to cut across his lawn and stops, suddenly, because there's a body laying in his path. 

"Um. Hello?" he says, and, seriously, if he has to call the cops because someone _died_ in his yard, he's going to be a little irked.

The body shifts a little, and Zayn's relieved. "Is that my Zayn?" comes an intensely fucking familiar voice.

"You overshot by a lawn, Lou," Zayn says, smiling, and sits on the grass next to him.

"Missed you," Louis says.

"Missed you back," Zayn says. "Drunk?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna come inside?" Because Louis's parents will murder him, almost definitely.

"Yeah. In a bit," Louis says. "Sit with me for awhile."

"Yeah," says Zayn, and lays back so they're parallel, elbows touching. 

"Remember," Louis slurs, "when we'd camp out here and name the stars after superheroes?"

Zayn smiles. "And you got so cold we had to zip our sleeping bags together for body warmth."

"And those fucking birds would wake us up at five in the morning and we'd have to go inside for more sleep."

"Yeah. And remember when we tried to build that treehouse out back? And you broke my arm?"

"I'm pretty sure the fall broke your arm, Zayner, not me." Louis is almost laughing, now, but it sounds weird. Zayn chalks it up to their distance, those three and a half years.

"I'm pretty sure it was you who made me climb up there, Lou." 

Louis rolls over to face him and Zayn imitates. The orange glow of the streetlights cast shadows on their faces. Louis's eyes are swollen and his cheeks are damp. Zayn's smile drops and his hand reaches out to tangle with Louis's fingers. 

"You okay?" he asks, not knowing the right words, not knowing if he's allowed to ask. 

Louis's lips curve up into a small ghost of a grin. "No, but let's keep doing this."

Zayn eyes him carefully and nods. "Remember when you stole that girl's cat from down the street? And you made us colour it black with marker once she put signs up? I'm pretty sure that was animal abuse, dude."

"It liked me better than her, anyway. She dressed it up in doll clothes," Louis says softly. He's shivering a little. Zayn sits up, shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over Louis's side.

"Thanks," Louis whispers, and then goes on, "There was also that time we tried to bake cookies for your mom and set off the fire alarm and spilt the flour over the whole kitchen. And you dropped the carton of eggs."

"No," Zayn laughs. "I remember distinctly it was you that dropped the eggs, Lou."

"No, no, I would never. I'm too graceful." 

"Right. Right, like that time we tried to make a bridge out of rocks across the river and you fell in and bashed your head open. Your mom almost had a heart attack. We weren't allowed back out there for like a year."

"Yeah," Louis says, "but I still have a badass scar, man, seriously. People ask if I was knifed."

Zayn snorts. "I'm sure, yeah. I'm sure they think, yeah, _Louis Tomlinson_ is likely to have been in a knife fight."

"Hey!" Louis nudges him with his knee. "I'm hardcore, man."

Smiling, Zayn says, "You're so not. Come inside with me."

Louis squeezes their fingers, still entangled, and nods, letting out a harsh breath. "Yeah."

As Zayn pulls Louis to his feet, he glances down the darkened street. Harry Styles' car is gone.

*

When Zayn wakes up, Louis is sitting up, leaning against the headboard, studying his sketchbook. Zayn makes a small noise. 

Louis looks at him quickly and shuts it, embarrassed. "Sorry. Sorry. It was under the pillow and I didn't know – I just pulled it out. Sorry."

Zayn shakes his head groggily. "It's fine." 

"You're–" Louis stops and looks at Zayn tentatively. "You're so good, Zayn. I mean, you've always been good, you were always good, but. Just. Wow. I never..." he trails off. 

Zayn blinks a bit and shrugs. "It's been three years," he says simply.

Louis bites his lip and looks away. "Missed you," he says.

"Missed you back," Zayn says.

Louis gazes around his room for awhile. Cataloguing the differences, Zayn imagines. Zayn stays curled under the covers, eyes slipping closed again. 

"Hey," Louis says. "Where'd you apply to college?"

Zayn offers a grunt in response and Louis pokes him. "C'mon," Louis urges. "MIT? Harvard? UChicago?"

Snorting, Zayn bats away Louis's fingers. "RISD, Cal Arts, and Evergreen," he says. "You?"

"Ooh, arty boy. Have you heard from any of them?"

"Yeah, I'm into RISD and Evergreen. Haven't heard from Cal Arts. Where'd you apply?"

Louis shrugs. "I've had offers to play and all, but nothing's really jumped out at me. My dad's pushing for Wake Forest, which, like, ew. But, shit, RISD, Zayn. That's fucking amazing. Congratulations. You going?"

Zayn shrugs. He really doesn't want to talk about this. "Dunno."

Louis smiles down at him. "Yeah. So I should go. Have to finish that paper for AP Lit, have you finished? The Poisonwood Bible one?"

"As if I'm in AP Lit," Zayn says.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Such a waste of a brain, Zayner, I've always said. If I can do it..."

"You've always been smarter than me, though," Zayn points out. 

Louis laughs lightly. "Nah. I'll see you later, okay? Thanks for, you know, last night."

Zayn shakes his head. "Yeah, you know. Always."

Louis brushes his hand over Zayn's hair and stands up, his back cracking as he walks to the door. He turns around and says, "Missed you," one more time. 

Zayn smiles into his pillow. "Missed you back." It comes out all muffled.

*

On Monday morning, while Zayn is locking his front door behind him, Harry Styles screeches into the driveway between his and Louis's house. Zayn looks up as the car door slams. 

"Hey, Zayn," Harry says with a big, red smile. It's impossible not to like Harry, though Zayn's never really tried. He couldn't be jealous, or whatever. He has Liam and Louis has Harry. But whenever he thinks the term _best friend_ , there's always only been one answer. He thinks it's the same for Louis. He thinks. 

"Hey," Zayn says. 

"I'm picking Lou up," Harry tells him. "You want a ride?"

“Sure, thanks, man.”

Harry smiles. “No problem. How was your weekend?” he asks, as he pulls out his phone and sending a text. Probably to Louis, Zayn thinks. 

“Good, yeah, went to a show, hung out, you know,” Zayn says. “You?”

Harry’s brow furrows slightly but he quickly covers it with another grin. “Good, good. Derek had that party and I had to finish a paper. Rather uneventful.”

“Oh, yeah, The Poisonwood Bible, right?” Zayn says, for lack of anything better. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah, fuck that, man. Good thing Lou actually reads the books.”

Zayn smiles. Louis _would_. Speaking of Louis, his front door slams and Louis comes out. Harry turns around as he approaches and reaches out, pulling him into a quick hug by the back of his neck. Louis looks a bit stiff, but relaxes into it briefly. “Zayn!” Louis says, shooting a quick look at Harry. 

Harry shrugs. “Offered him a ride.”

Louis purses his lips, and, okay. Zayn can’t pretend _that_ doesn’t sting. “I mean, I haven’t missed the bus yet...” he offers blindly.

Louis blinks. “Oh! No, don’t be stupid. Sorry. Tired.”

They get in the car and music comes screaming out of the speakers as soon as Harry turns the key. Zayn winces, it’s really too fucking early for 65daysofstatic. 

“Where’d you disappear to Saturday night?” Harry says quietly to Louis. Zayn stares out the window. “I thought I was giving you a ride home.”

Louis pulls down the sunblind and examines his hair in the mirror. “You seemed occupied. I walked home.” His voice is very, very cold. 

Harry’s fingers clench on the wheel and he glances into the rearview mirror at Zayn. “Lou...”

“What the fuck is this music?” Louis says loudly over Harry’s quiet plea. “I’m not listening to this.” He grabs Harry’s iPod and scrolls quickly, before settling on William Fitzsimmons. 

“Louis,” Harry says quietly. 

“We’ll talk later,” Louis says sharply.

Zayn stares out the window. The rest of the drive is spent in silence and when they pull into the staff parking lot, Zayn jumps out. “Thanks for the ride, Styles,” he says. “See ya, Lou.”

“Bye, Zayn,” Louis says, all soft. 

*

Just after the bell goes, signifying the end of fourth period, Zayn’s collapsed on the turf of the football practice field, laying on his back, head resting on his backpack, eyes closed. He feels rather than sees Liam sit down next to him. 

“Why must we eat lunch outside at the end of January, Malik?” Liam asks, groaning all long-sufferingly and pulling his jacket tighter around him.

“Because there are people inside,” Zayn grumbles.

Liam scoffs and unwraps his sandwich, dropping half of it on Zayn’s stomach. “So, anyway, I was wrong the other day,” he says.

“Naturally,” Zayn says back. “About what?” He takes a bite of the sandwich. Liam’s awesome.

“Louis and Harry. Forget I mentioned it. Shouldn’t listen to Jackie’s gossip anyway.”

“Shouldn’t listen to her _anything_ , dude. She’s an idiot. Anyway, what do you mean, Louis and Harry?”

Liam talks around a mouthful of ham and cheese, “Y’know. Whatever I was implying. Harry was all over Alexa at Derek’s party on Saturday. Pretty sure they fucked in Derek’s parents’ bed.”

Zayn pulls a face. “Classy. Also, why are you talking as if you went to Derek’s party? I was with you Saturday night. And also, there’s no chance you’d have gone to Derek’s party on account of you hate Derek and parties.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Tommy gave me a ride this morning. Filled me in, or whatever. Mostly he talked and I finished my math homework. But yeah.”

“Weird,” Zayn says. “Actually, speaking of rides, Harry gave me a ride this morning. It was a bit awkward between him and Lou.” Zayn thinks back to Saturday night, thinks back to Louis’s swollen eyes and wet cheeks. He swallows.

Liam looks up from his lunch, all intrigued. “Yeah?”

“Ugh,” Zayn says. “Let’s not do this.”

Liam laughs and throws a grape at Zayn’s face. “We could go find Jackie, get her opinion.”

“Fuck off. Hey, light me a smoke, would you?” Zayn bats his hand against Liam’s knee, unwilling to move.

“No, dick, I’m not going to let you smoke in a place that could get _me_ suspended.”

“You’re so boring, Li. Live a little. Walk on the wild side.”

“Did you do your bio sheet?” Liam asks. 

“Does it look like I did my bio sheet?” Zayn says, because, like, _really_?

Liam sighs and digs into Zayn’s backpack, still under his head. Zayn pulls a face at the movement. “You’re so lucky I care about you,” Liam grumbles.

Zayn laughs a little. “No, you just like to show off.”

“You’re taking a science class you should have taken _sophomore year_ ,” Liam says for the eighteenth kazillionth time. “And you’re barely even passing!”

“Thank god I have you, darling,” Zayn coos, batting his eyelashes. 

Liam rolls his eyes, but smiles a little. 

*

At midnight, Zayn’s in his bed reading some book Aiden gave him, the new Patti Smith one that Aiden swears is _just  magical_. Which, like, fine, but Zayn thinks that very few books are _magical_ and the last Harry Potter book came out six years ago and what’s more magical than that? He flops back against the mattress and lets the book hit his chest, bouncing closed. 

There’s a sharp tap on his window. Zayn glances over. Another sharp tap. He gets up and peers out, seeing nothing but his own reflection in the glare of his lamp on the glass. 

“Zayn!” comes a hiss from the yard. Zayn pushes the window open and looks down. Louis has a handful of pebbles. 

“Are you serious?” Zayn says. “Is this a John Hughes movie? Because I don’t hear any Peter Gabriel and I won’t put out for less.”

Louis doesn’t smile, not really. “Come outside.”

Zayn says, “You could have just texted!” and pulls the window shut, grabs a coat, and goes out the back door. 

Louis is leaning against his house when Zayn reaches him. “What’s up, Lou?”

“Jump off 520 with me,” Louis says.

Zayn stares at him. “It’s after midnight on a Monday night at the end of January.”

“Polar bear swimming!” Louis exclaims. “It’s a thing. I read about it.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You driving?”

Louis grins and shakes his keys. “Let’s go.”

Zayn grumbles a little under his breath but slides into Louis’s car. Louis grabs something from the trunk before getting in, dropping a paper bag on Zayn’s lap. It’s heavy and the landing hurts.

“Fuck! I think you broke my dick, man,” Zayn says. Louis smirks. Zayn reaches in and sighs when his fingers curl around the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniels. 

“It’ll keep us warm,” Louis says. Zayn rolls his eyes and unscrews the lid, taking a shot. It burns going down and, yeah, he tries not to drink, really, because he likes it too much. But tonight Louis is here and they’re going to jump off a bridge into frigid water so, like, yeah, he’s gonna have a drink. 

They get to the water and Louis pulls off into the trees and cuts the engine. “Pass it over,” he says, and Zayn does, clumsily. Louis sucks some down hurriedly and then hands it back to Zayn. 

Louis says, “Come on,” and so Zayn does. 

They step out of the car into the cold night and Louis shivers once, rubs his hands up and down his arms, and pulls his sweater off, taking his teeshirt with it. Zayn stares at him. “We’re really doing this?”

“We’re really doing this, Zayner,” Louis answers, fingers fumbling with the fly of his jeans. “Boxers only. Or tighty-whiteys, if that’s what you’re still rocking.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and pulls off his jacket and his flannel shirt, tugging his teeshirt over his head. He drops his jeans to the ground and kicks off his boots. “Okay,” he says.

Louis walks over to him, his eyes on Zayn’s chest. “Wow,” he breathes, and Zayn flushes. _That’s_ forward.

Louis glances up at him and lets out a small laugh. “No, shit, I mean the tattoos, not – yeah.”

“Oh,” Zayn says, and looks down at himself. “Yeah, well.”

Louis presses his hand over Zayn’s heart, fingers brushing the edge of the script across his collarbone. He stays like that, the warmth of his hand bleeding into the warmth of Zayn’s chest. Zayn blinks down at him, questioning. 

Louis gives him a small smile and presses his fingertips into Zayn’s skin minutely. “Let’s go.”

He takes off running towards the lip of the bridge, the small section of no-man’s-land between the edge of the park and the edge of the freeway. He stands there, back arched, almost glowing in the moonlight. 

He looks back at Zayn, who’s come up behind him. “Missed you,” he says.

“Missed you back,” Zayn replies.

And Louis jumps, falling through the air, the fifty foot drop. Zayn read somewhere that a fifty foot drop into water, if landed badly, has a similar impact to a fifty foot drop onto a cement sidewalk. 

“Fuck!” Louis screams. Zayn smiles and throws himself off, into fifty feet of January air. 

“Fuck!” Zayn screams. 

Louis is treading water frantically. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” he’s chanting. “Zayn, this is so motherfucking cold I think my balls have dropped off.” His teeth are chattering.

Zayn can’t feel his limbs. “Shit, Lou, we really do have to get out now. Hypothermia, and all.”

“Yeah,” Louis says and begins to swim slowly toward the steep bank. “Fuck, whose idea was this?”

Zayn lets out a weak laugh and follows in his wake, literally, till they reach the bank. Louis grasps onto an exposed root hanging low over the water and pulls himself up shakily, before turning and holding a trembling hand out to Zayn. 

They make their way slowly back to Louis’s car, grabbing their clothes and the bottle of Jack on the way. Louis turns the key and puts the heater on full-blast, air fanning into their faces and blue lips.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes again.

Zayn looks at him. “Wanna shed some light on why we did that?”

Louis stares out the windshield, stares into the glowing city lights across the water. “Harry fucked Alexa.”

Zayn blinks at the apparent non-sequitur. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

Louis turns away from the view of the water, and he turns to look at Zayn, eyes pleading. 

Zayn looks back. “Lou.”

“It’s stupid,” Louis says and his voice is tight and choked. Zayn reaches out a cold hand and Louis takes it with his colder one. “It’s stupid, because we both knew she liked him and he promised he wouldn’t but he did anyway and I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Are you two,” Zayn starts, and realises quickly he doesn’t know how to finish the question. 

Louis shrugs and wipes his face harshly with the teeshirt balled in his other hand. “Not anymore, I guess.”

“Shit,” Zayn breathes. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Lou.”

“No one knew,” Louis says.

“For how long?”

Louis bites his lip and stares back out the window, his fingers tightening around Zayn’s. “Three and a half years.”

Zayn lets out a long breath and passes the bottle of Jack back over to Louis. “I’ll drive home.”

Louis takes it with a small smile. “Missed you,” he says.

Zayn takes a deep breath and steps back out of the car into the frigid air, pulling his teeshirt and jeans on quickly, before dashing over to the driver’s side and nudging Louis over the center console. Louis smiles over at him. “Tastes like water,” he says.

Zayn shakes his head and drops his jacket on Louis’s lap. “Just don’t throw up in your own car, dude. That’d be an all-time low.”

“Can I stay over at yours?” Louis asks. 

“Obviously.”

Louis reaches back out and takes Zayn’s hand and Zayn tightens his fingers around Louis’s freezing ones, holding on. 

“Missed you back," Zayn says.

*

Louis is drunker than Zayn’s ever seen him by the time they make it back to their street. He’s not just drunk, either, he’s drunk and _morose_ and, really, it’s almost three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday and Zayn’s parents are sleeping and they have to be up for school in three hours and Zayn really, really doesn’t know how to shut Louis up.

“We were gonna go to college together,” Louis is saying. “He wanted to play at UCLA, you know.” Louis is laughing, now. “You know what he said, Zayn? He said we were Gerrard and Torres.” Louis rolls over and presses his face into Zayn’s shoulder. “Gerrard and Torres,” he repeats. “How ridiculous is that?”

Zayn makes a sound of affirmation. “Gerrard loved Alonso more anyway, so it’s not even the best metaphor or whatever.”

Louis looked up at him, his smile fading and that sad look coming back into his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Alonso always came first.”

Zayn bites his lip. That’s _not_ where he meant to steer this conversation. “You’re better than Steven Gerrard, though. And Fernando Torres is a complete bag of shit.”

Louis laughs softly. “And Xabi Alonso left a long time ago.”

“Stop it,” Zayn says. “You don’t even like Liverpool. Stop it.”

“Okay,” Louis says. “Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney?”

“I’m going to puke and I haven’t drank nearly as much as you.”

“Imagine the sex.”

“ _No, Louis_.”

“It’d be slippery.”

“I’m going to sleep. I hate you so fucking much.”

*

They sleep through Zayn’s alarm and wake up at eleven, Louis pressed against Zayn’s side, arm curled around his chest and thigh between Zayn’s. 

“Hey,” Zayn says casually.

Louis cracks open a bleary eye, blinking blankly. He realises the position he’s in and after a brief pause, he untangles himself. “Sorry.”

Zayn shrugs. “How’re you doing?”

Louis groans. “Awful.”

“Aside from the headache, I mean,” Zayn says.

Louis looks up at him and pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. “You won’t, like, tell anyone, will you?”

Zayn feels himself flinch. “Of course I won’t, Louis.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, no, I mean. I didn’t think you would, I just. Had to say it, you know.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Louis laughs shortly. “Why the fuck would I want to talk about it?”

Zayn sighs. “Louis, come on. Three and a half years is a long time. It’s a long time to keep something so huge to yourself. So, like, it’s not bad or weak or _girly_ or whatever the fuck if you want to talk about it.”

Louis is quiet.

Zayn says, “Do you love him?”

Louis tenses. “Ask me something else.”

“Do your parents know?” Zayn asks.

“No.”

“Literally no one besides you, me, and him know?” Zayn’s incredulous. One time he kissed this girl Jessie at a party and girls he’d never spoken to in his life were talking about it the very next day. 

Sighing, Louis says, “Niall knows. He covered for us a lot.”

Zayn nods. He likes Niall, from what he knows of him. Fucking crazy, and crazy good in goal, but hilarious and sweet. The kind of kid who’s friends with everyone. “When did you...” Zayn trails off.

And, see, this is the weird part for Zayn, because he’s spent his entire life knowing Louis better than he knows himself. He knows what mood Louis is in from twenty yards away. He knows if Louis is stressed just by the tensing of one jaw muscle. He knows the exact artist, album, and track Louis plays when he’s sad. And he didn’t know this huge part of him. He didn’t know the most intimate part of Louis’s life. Which is fine, Zayn knows, because it’s definitely not his business and Louis has no obligations to tell him and it’s fine. It’s all fine. But it’s what’s sticking with him, it’s the one part Zayn’s having trouble with; the not knowing. 

Louis rolls over onto his back and stares at Zayn’s ceiling, stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Zayn and Louis put up when they were six, stares at the Orion constellation that’s lacking a sword because Zayn was scared it’d come alive and kill them in their sleep.

“Seventh grade,” Louis says finally, seeming to get what Zayn's asking, edging a glance at him. 

Zayn exhales heavily. “God, Lou. You could have–”

“No. I couldn’t have,” Louis says flatly.

"But _why_ , Louis? You're my best friend, I wouldn't have cared! I would have been glad you trusted me! You shouldn't have to struggle with something like that alone, you know?"

Louis has his fingers clenched in Zayn's comforter now, knuckles white. "No, Zayn. I couldn't tell _you_ , okay?"

Oh. _Oh_. Fuck. "Lou," Zayn breathes. 

"I don't want to talk about this," Louis says tightly, pained. He sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, pressing his forehead into his bony soccer-scarred kneecaps. His hands run through his sleepy-looking hair, tugging and clenching, knuckles whitening once more.

Zayn sits up, too, and leans himself against the wall, perpendicular to Louis. He pulls his legs up and it's like a corner of mirrors. "You should've..." he trails off again, because he's the absolute worst person and cannot finish a goddamn sentence when it matters. 

"I should have what, exactly, Zayn?" Louis bursts out. "I should have told my best friend – the one person I honestly loved – that I had a big gay crush on him? When we were twelve? Look, you were awesome when you were twelve. You were. You were my whole world. But I don't think you were awesome enough to handle that, dude, alright? I wasn't going to lose you then and I'm not going to lose you now, okay? So, yeah, like, whatever. That was five years ago and now it's fine, okay? It's over and I found someone who loved me back and it turns out I'm still not enough, so can we fucking move on?"

Louis is breathing heavily and he's shaking a little and he's trying so hard not to cry and Zayn's huddled against the wall reeling and he shocks into it. He shocks into it and lurches across the bed, throwing his arms around Louis, pressing his face into the bend of his neck and his shoulder. 

"Shut up shut up shut up shut up," Zayn whispers. "Shut up shut up shut up."

Louis breathes in, choked and harsh. "I really thought he loved me."

"It's okay. It'll be okay," Zayn says into Louis's skin. He smells like sleep and something so distinctly Louis that it makes Zayn's head spin. It makes him think of soccer in the yard and swordfights between trees and late nights of stupid dirty stories and his entire life. 

Louis slowly relaxes into him, folds himself sideways so his knees are pressed against Zayn's stomach and his head under Zayn's chin, hair tickling his nose. "It'll be okay," Zayn whispers again. 

Zayn strokes down his back, his ribcage, breathes in his hair, and Louis grabs his hand after awhile, takes it and holds it and brings it to his chest, over his heart. "I want to sleep, I think."

"Yeah," Zayn says. "Yeah."

And then Zayn's phone goes off and Louis sighs and Zayn says, "Fuck, sorry." He grabs it. It's Liam, obviously. Zayn checks the time, and, yep, it's noon. 

"Hey, Li, sorry. Not at school today."

Liam makes an angry noise. "I've been sitting outside, alone, in the rain, for ten minutes, you fucking asshole. Thanks for the update."

"Sorry," Zayn says. "Yeah, not feeling great this morning. Took a day."

"Yeah, fine, whatever, feel better," Liam says. "Hey, have you heard from Louis? I heard Jackie talking in physics today and she was saying all this shit about Harry and–"

"Liam," Zayn says sharply. Louis is staring up at him, wide-eyed and fragile, and Zayn's sure the end of that sentence is something no one wants to hear. "Look, we'll talk later, alright?"

Liam pauses. "Oh, fuck, are you with him?"

Louis makes a small noise and moves like he's about to get up, get away. Zayn holds him down tightly, holds him against his body. "Liam. Later, yeah?"

"Yeah. God. Sorry. Yeah. Bye."

Zayn tosses the phone to the end of the bed and he brings both of his arms back around Louis and closes his eyes so tightly.

"So everyone knows, basically," Louis says and his voice is emotionless. 

Zayn just makes a small noise and pulls him closer. "Sleep now."

Louis laughs hollowly. "How? I'm not only gonna be the _fag_ now, I'm gonna be the fag with the boyfriend who fucked a girl because he wasn't good enough."

Zayn moves then. He grabs onto Louis's shoulder and presses his back flat against the bed and he hovers over him, six inches between their faces. Louis's eyes are wide and dark and angry and sad and he stares up at Zayn, unconsciously licking his lips. Zayn tracks his tongue with his eyes before glaring back up into Louis's. "I never," he growls, "want to hear you say anything like that again. Not that word and not that thought, okay? Never."

Louis's eyelids flutter shut and he takes a shaky breath. "Can we..." He pauses and takes another deep breath. "Can we go out back and build a fort?"

*

The next day, as the bell for lunch goes, Zayn shoves his notebook and math book into his backpack and walks purposefully for the side exit out to the football field. As he passes the wall where the soccer team eats lunch, he hears: 

"Zayn!" 

 Zayn turns around and Louis is jogging toward him. "Hey," Zayn says with a small smile.

"Can I eat with you?"

Zayn blinks. "Oh. Um, yeah, of course." He leads Louis to the corner of the turf where Liam's already waiting. 

"Oh, hey, Louis," Liam says.

Louis grins at him. "Liam Payne! My sophomore year bio partner extraordinaire! How are you?"

Zayn rolls his eyes and plops down. Liam tosses half his sandwich at him and Zayn nods his thanks. 

"Good, man, good. Getting a refresher in bio, actually, because this idiot refuses to do his homework," Liam says.

Louis looks at Zayn. "You're in _bio_? _Senior year_? I didn't even know that was allowed."

Zayn grunts. "Turns out you can't graduate or something. Fascists."

Turning back to Liam, Louis says, "He does that thing, doesn't he?"

Liam says, "What, that thing where he pretends he's stupid?"

"Yeah." Louis pulls out a yogurt and a hoodie, tugging it over his head.

"Yeah. Is it an insecurity thing, do you think?" Liam says.

Louis considers this while struggling to get his arms through his sweatshirt. "I don't know. Maybe it's an _Oh I'm Zayn Malik and I think I'm hot shit_ sort of thing."

"You know," Zayn says. "I am _right here_." 

"No," Liam says, ignoring Zayn, "I think you might be right. He's very precious about his affected apathy and misandry." 

"Okay. I'm gonna have to put an end to this right here," Zayn says. "You two," he points between Liam and Louis, "are not allowed to be friends."

"Liam and I go way back," Louis says, smiling at Liam. "We got detention after that electrolysis lab, remember that?"

Liam laughs. "That was your fault!"

"It wasn't!" Louis protests. 

"It was," Zayn says. "I heard about that one."

Louis grumbles, "Everything's my fault with you. It was the teacher's fault – what was his name? He was some last-minute hire, remember? Trained as like a Spanish teacher?"

"Mr. Roberts," Liam supplies. 

"Yeah! What a dick. He always held me after class and gave me _advice for the field_ , as if I was really interested in his analysis of FIFA06 or whatever the fuck."

"Hey," Zayn says. "You made captain that year. Maybe you have him to thank."

Louis reacts to that, leaning over and grabbing Zayn in a headlock, scraping a hand through Zayn's hair. Zayn struggles fruitlessly, legs kicking out in front of him. Liam laughs and Louis pulls back, smiling, pleased. 

"You can both fuck off," Zayn says bitterly, uselessly patting his hair back down. 

Louis gives him a beatific smile. "You love us."

*

The next month passes that way. Louis joins Zayn and Liam for lunch and he throws rocks at Zayn's window in the middle of random schoolnights – which, seriously, he could just text – and Zayn's spending more time with Louis than he has since they were thirteen. And it's perfect, really; they're playing soccer across their lawns and they're getting drunk in the trees behind their house and they're talking shit about the kids in their classes and Zayn's having so much fun and it's strange, really, because of all the things he expected from his senior year of high school, getting Louis back wasn't even on the list. 

They're leaning against the big oak tree, staring out into the thinning forest, backs to their houses, and Louis says, "I hope you don't think I'm just hanging out with you because I haven't got anyone else."

Zayn snorts and whacks him on the thigh. "Well, I _wasn't_ before now." Which is a lie anyway, but he doesn't care. He doesn't think Louis loves him any less. He knows it's hard, and he recognises how subdued Louis has become lately, with all the rumours flying around the school – more than usual, now that Louis and Harry are barely ever in the same room together. He definitely understands Louis needing to hide somewhere to get away from all that.

Louis laughs a little. "Shut up. I mean, like. I don't know. Don't want you to think that."

"No," Zayn says. "And anyway, it's fine if you were."

"I'm not," Louis says. "I've missed you so much. I don't even know why we haven't done this for four years, you know? Wasn't that the plan?"

Zayn shrugs. This is kind of a painful topic, actually. "Yeah, well, you got all shit-hot and left the little people behind," he says lightly.

Louis glances at him. "Is that what you think?"

Zayn rubs his hands over his face. "Louis. Jesus. It's fine. I'm glad we're hanging out again, that's really all I care about."

"Because," Louis continues as if Zayn hasn't spoken, "that wasn't what happened, you know?"

"Okay, Lou." Seriously, Zayn thinks, can he stop now?

"No," Louis presses on doggedly. "I want to explain this. I needed time, I think. Away from you. To sort of... get my head on straight, as it were." Louis quirks a grin at Zayn. 

Zayn tenses. "You really don't–"

"And then I met Harry and everything got kind of fantastic and I sort of. Fell into this life, I guess? Like, he was on the team and I was on the team and the team became our entire life, our entire circle of friends and everything else sort of. Faded, I guess," Louis says. "And that was shitty of me. And I'm sorry."

"Louis," Zayn says firmly. "I get it. I got it then, too. It's fine. I survived. I have friends, you know, it's not like I was sitting around pining in a corner because my best friend got too cool for me."

Louis smiles down at his hands. "No, I know. I really like Liam. And Aiden seems really nice, too."

"Yeah." Zayn stares off into the trees. "Don't worry about it, okay? Just glad we're here now."

"Yeah," Louis says, and then his voice forcibly brightens. "So, anyway, how about you? Got any girlfriends? I heard about Jessie, that one time."

Zayn rolls his eyes. "No, god, what, did _everyone_ hear about that? I'm pretty sure we were both trashed and she cornered me in the kitchen."

Louis laughs. "So, come on, there has to be a girl you like."

Shrugging, Zayn laces his fingers together and holds them tightly, watching the blood cut off. He says, "Girls aren't really my thing, you know."

There's a pause. A long pause, for Louis, who usually can't go ten seconds without some kind of inane comment. 

"I... oh," is what he finally comes out with. 

Zayn hums. "Introspective, Lou, really. Thank you."

"Shut up." Louis lets out a wild, breathless huff of laughter. "I'm trying really hard not to run away right now, because I'm fairly sure that's a no-no when someone comes out to you."

Zayn turns to look at him curiously. "What's wrong?" he says.

Louis shakes his head kind of manically. "No, no, nothing. Just. Shocked. Or something. Sorry. Um. Any boyfriends, then?"

Zayn laughs shortly. "No, dude. No."

"Right," Louis says. "Okay."

Zayn nudges him with his elbow. "Is this gonna be weird now? Because..." He shrugs, unsure where he was going with that. 

Louis leans into Zayn and says, "No, I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting that. And, you know..."

"What?" Zayn asks, curious.

Louis shakes his head again. "No, I don't know, never mind. Have you told anyone else?"

"Liam knows, I think. Always full of these pointed reassurances, you know," Zayn says with a little laugh.

Louis smiles. "I like him."

"Yeah. So, we're good?" Zayn asks hesitantly. 

Louis closes his eyes and leans back against the tree with that small smile still on his face. "Yeah, Zayner. Always."

*

February fades into March and regular decision college results start coming and everyone is buzzing with news and heartbreak and jealousy and gossip. 

Louis, Zayn, and Liam are hiding on the turf of the football field. 

"Have you sent your confirmation to RISD yet?" Liam asks Zayn. 

Zayn takes a bite of Liam's sandwich. "No."

Louis makes a noise. "What the hell, dude, why not? You only applied to three schools and that's by far the dream. Come on."

Liam nods. "Gotta man up, Zayn."

"Shut up," Zayn mumbles. 

"Seriously, Zayn," Louis says. "What's the deal?"

Zayn lays back on the scratchy plastic grass. "It's kind of a big decision, like. Rhode Island is quite literally as far as I could possibly get from this place without actively going overseas, you know? Evergreen is an hour away, Cal Arts is just down the coast... it's a big decision."

Louis is quiet for a second, and then, "But think of all the hot east coast arty guys!"

Liam's eyebrows shoot up into his hair and his mouth drops open. 

Zayn sits up and shoots a look at Louis. "Thanks," he says.

"Oh, fuck," Louis says, horrified. "I'm so sorry."

Zayn shakes his head. "It's fine. He knew. You knew, right, Li?"

Liam blinks and his mouth is still hanging open. He kind of twitches and snaps back into the conversation. "I mean. I suspected, I guess. Jesus, okay, yeah."

Zayn looks at him apologetically. "Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, you're the second person who knows. Well, third, I guess, counting myself."

Liam kind of stares at him for a second and nods slowly. He looks at Louis. "Do I have to pretend I don't know about you, too?"

Louis blushes and looks down and Zayn glares at Liam. Liam pulls a guilty face back. "Sorry. Insensitive?"

"Just a _bit_ ," Zayn says, still glaring.

Louis clears his throat. "No, it's cool. I mean. I knew you knew."

"Right," Liam says, and he looks between Zayn and Louis briefly, before raising his eyebrows at Zayn in question. 

Zayn just shakes his head.

*

On the Friday before spring break, Louis is giving Zayn a ride home. They're listening to the Smiths, and Zayn rolls his eyes dramatically in Louis's face. Louis laughs and shoves him away, before crooning, " _Please, please, please, let me, let me, let me get what I want this time_."

"You're so pathetic," Zayn says.

Louis sighs. "Yeah."

Zayn looks over at him. "So how are you, anyway?" Harry and Alexa are a thing, now, all prom plans and holding hands and kisses before class and Louis hasn't mentioned any of it, hasn't given a single indication he knows. 

Louis glances at him quickly before turning his eyes back to the road. "I don't know. Fine. It sucks, but I'm fine."

"Yeah?" Zayn says, not believing him.

Louis shrugs. "It's just _weird_ , I don't know. And sad. We had all these plans, you know? And I know it's stupid, because, like, it's high school and whatever, but. It felt real. I guess. For me."

"No, yeah," Zayn says. "I get that. You don't deserve this, you know?"

Louis smiles a little. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

Zayn nods and lets it go. "Wanna do something for break?"

Louis lights up, as if he was waiting for Zayn to ask. "I was thinking we could go camping. Proper camping, like, in a real forest with a real tent and real campfire and real s'mores and all that."

"Yeah, Lou." Zayn smiles out the window. "Sounds great."

*

On Saturday, they pack up the car with wildly extravagant camping gear Louis's family somehow had in their garage and they stop by Kroger's for firewood and marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers ("We need real food, Lou," Zayn says. Louis blinks at him, all wide-eyed. "What do you mean?") and they set off on I-90 east, planning to stop only when somewhere feels right. Zayn puts on the Beach Boys, because, goddamnit, this is going to be _fun_.

They end up in Mount Rainier National Park on the edge of the Snoqualmie Forest and find a campground on Bumping Lake. They struggle with the tent for a good hour until Zayn finally says, all frustrated, "Louis, go do the fire, alright? I've got this."

And now they're curled together in front of a fire on a rather nasty blanket and Louis is roasting marshmallow after marshmallow, having gotten full after the third, and he's just shoving them in Zayn's mouth, now, mid-word, laughing hysterically when Zayn starts choking. 

"You're the worst," Zayn says, and digs his fingers into Louis's side. Louis shrieks and squirms away before coming back and sprawling on top of Zayn, holding his hands down.

"No more," Louis gasps. Zayn smiles up at him.

"This was such a good idea," he says. "Getting away from everything."

Louis nods and rolls over, back onto the blanket, but still pressing his side to Zayn's. "Yeah. Yeah, I needed this."

They're quiet for a moment, then Louis chuckles. "Bumping Lake," he says. "We're camping on Bumping Lake."

Zayn groans. "You're the worst."

Louis laughs and rolls on his side, bringing his hand over to rest on Zayn's ribs. "Missed you," he says.

Zayn smiles up at the dark sky, at all the stars that are so much brighter out of the city. "Missed you back."

They go quiet again, the crackling fire and the swaying of the pine trees the only sounds around them. 

"Hey, Zayn?" Louis says softly. 

"Yeah?"

"Would it–" Louis takes a deep breath. "Would it ruin everything if..."

Zayn shifts over, turning on his side to face Louis. Their eyes search each other's for a few seconds and Zayn smiles kind of hesitantly. "No. I don't think so."

Louis closes his eyes and nods. "Okay."

And then he's leaning forward and his lips press softly to Zayn's. Zayn brings his hand up to cup Louis's jaw, guiding him against his mouth. Louis's fingers splay out on Zayn's side before dipping down to push up under his teeshirt, running up his bare skin. They stay that way, eyes closed, mouths barely moving against each other, just breathing quietly. 

Louis pulls back and Zayn doesn't let him go far, slides his hand to the back of his neck and holds him there. Louis looks at him. "Yeah?" he says.

Zayn smiles. "Yeah."

Louis moves back in and it becomes deeper, not more _real_ , necessarily, but Louis bites at Zayn's bottom lip and Zayn groans, rolling Louis over and settling on top of him, bringing his arms up to bracket Louis's head, holding himself up. Louis's hands settle on Zayn's hips, keeping him close, and then they run back up his sides, over his back and he just holds on. 

They kiss until their lips are red and swollen and then Zayn leans back with a sigh. He brushes Louis's hair off his forehead and Louis gives him a sweet little smile in return. 

"Good?" Zayn asks. 

Louis breathes out a laugh and closes his eyes. "You know."

Zayn says, "Yeah," and slides half-way off Louis, redistributing his weight. 

Louis stares at the stars. "See that?" He points, draws a shape with his finger. "That's Batman."

Zayn follows his finger. "Oh! Yeah. And that one?" He draws another shape, tracing the stars. "That's Superman."

Louis smiles, nods, and grabs Zayn's hand, locking their fingers together. 

"Always pick up where we left off, don't we, Zayner?"

Zayn squeezes his hand. "I got lucky with you, Tomlinson."


End file.
